


forgotten.

by andreil



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Angst, Eventual Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreil/pseuds/andreil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah's been revived. But is it worth it if no one remembers who he is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. revival

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Ronan has never liked Adam - it's always been Noah.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Noah, who deserved more.

He wanted to be remembered when it happened. That was all.

So he made sure to ask. 

“Will you remember me?”

Ronan answers with only an undertone of resentment. This is not a topic he enjoys for numerous reasons, all of which he’s chosen to ignore. “Yes.”

“Do you promise?”

There’s a low growl. “Fuck, Noah. I’ve told you already. More than once.”

 

But Noah doesn’t mean to keep asking. Time is a circle, and sometimes he’s not quite sure where he is, or if he’s already asked this before. Of course, he _knows_ , but he doesn’t know, and in truth it is just as confusing as it sounds. All-knowing, unknowing. Ghost, entity, decaying, living. 

Where was he?

What was he?

Blue is the first one who snaps at him, surprisingly. Or unsurprisingly. He could read her easily, and he knew he often drove her mad with his incessant talking. A constantly repeated question would irritate anyone. 

“Blue.”

“Yes, Noah?”

“Will you remember me?”

She sighs. It’s a tired sigh, and suddenly Noah wishes he wasn’t there. That he was no longer this source of annoyance for his friends.

“Noah, please,” she says it like she’s probably said it before. “Enough of this.” She grabs his cheeks and represses the building shiver. “We will never forget you.”

“But how do you know-?”

“Enough,” she says. Snaps. Spits. Whatever it could be called. Her hands drop. 

He does not come back until a few days later.

 

Gansey and Adam are much more patient, and for that he is grateful. The wish is no longer going to be for him, but he’s always known it wouldn’t be. He had seen it in that circular motion of time. Besides, Cabeswater was more important. Eradicating the demon was essential to saving Ronan and Matthew and Orphan Girl and even Adam.

And truthfully, Noah did not truly want to come back.

Who was he without this side of himself? The rotting eyes and the decaying flowers of his soft aura and the blackness of his soul. Who was he without the ability to see into his friend’s minds and envision the world from such intricate points of view? Who was he without this warped feeling of time?

One night in Monmouth, when all was quiet, Noah partially mentions this to Ronan. He had been sitting, unmoving, on the edge of Ronan’s bed. Ronan thought he did it to for company, but Noah was only worried about Ronan sleeping alone. Nightmares were terrifying things, especially when they were brought to life.

Ronan sits up a few minutes after waking. His paralysis wore off and he looked at his dreamt butterfly, which had found its way to Noah’s mess of light hair. It flapped its wings, the color indistinguishable in the dark.

“You dream lovely dreams, Ronan.”

Ronan gave him a sharp look. There was a quick thought that Noah heard, but he felt like he was being invasive, and he quickly pulled himself away from the images in Ronan’s mind. “Creepy fuck,” he mumbles, but it lacks venom.

Noah takes the butterfly from his head and watches it perch along his index finger, wings flapping in the solidly dim room. “I never reached this stage.”

Ronan sleepily raises a brow. “Which stage?”

Noah indicates to the butterfly. “After the cocoon.”

For a long, stretched out minute, Ronan examines the butterfly and Noah. There’s a straight line set on his lip, and the ghost decides to keep talking as Ronan thinks.

“I made it to the cocoon. Maybe. I think. I’m not too sure.” He looks away, gaze somewhere else. “But then the cocoon shriveled up. The caterpillar lost air. It could not fight back. But there was still a sliver of air in the cocoon, so the caterpillar hung on.”

Ronan was watching him with intention. Noah did not acknowledge him. Instead, he smiled to himself. Ah, how funny it was to compare his murder to an insect. And yet, oddly fitting.

“I never made it to the butterfly stage.” A pause. “And I don’t think I ever want to. I just want the cocoon to take away that last bit of air so the caterpillar stops suffering.”

The room was silent. The butterfly did not make a sound. 

Ronan said through gritted teeth, “And that’s it? That’s all you want?” _You won’t fight back_ , was the real intention behind those questions.

“No. It’s not all I want.” He looked at Ronan, this embodiment of everything he was not, and his smirk from before turned into something small and sad and somehow genuine. “I want to be remembered when I’m gone.”

_When I’m gone._

Said like it was already being accepted.

The greywaren snarled. “Get out.”

With furrowed eyebrows and pained eyes, Noah got up. He was about to let the wind take him wherever it wanted when Ronan spoke up once more.

“You know.” Already, his words held malice. Ice bit the air. “I can see how Whelk got you so easily. You’re just… _there_. In the end, you don’t really care about anything, do you?”

In Ronan’s mind, Noah could see the simple reasoning for those words: _Hurt him! Hurt him like he’s hurting you._

It worked.

Noah wanted to say: No. That’s not it. I care too much. I care about everything. I care about you.

Instead, he said, “Yeah. I guess that was it.”

Even now, Noah wasn’t defending himself. He wasn’t defending the importance of his life like Ronan wanted him to. Noah could see himself from Ronan’s eyes: tired, disappearing, in pain from those words but refusing to fight back.

Disgust layered the greywaren’s features. “Fuck off, Noah.”

Noah left.

 

He went to Gansey in some other timeline. He told him those ever-lasting words as Gansey died on the ley line and would soon after return to life.

Then he fell from the loop of time.

The ley line, however, had plans for him.

 

Back at Monmouth, Ronan woke up when the sun began peeking into his bedroom from behind the curtains. He stretched, feeling exhausted and sleep-deprived but not knowing why. The clock read 7:38. He groaned, annoyed but unable to lay back in the bed.

There was something on his skin. Not a real thing, but a fake thing. The idea of a thing. Or maybe the memory of a thing. Whatever it was, it itched, but he could not identify the thing and so he told himself not to worry about the thing.

He went out into the living room, where he found Gansey sitting up on his bed, glasses on and reading the newspaper.

“Hey, man,” he started, scratching the short hair atop his head. “Did you come in my room last night and talk to me?”

Gansey looked up at him, eyebrow raised, eyes questioning from behind his frames. “No. Why? Was I sleepwalking? That’s a terrifying prospect.”

Ronan shook his head. “Nah. Just a weird vibe I had. Nevermind.”

They went about their day.

 

They’d forgotten him.

 

Somewhere else on the ley line, Noah woke up.

There was dampness beneath his Aglionby sweater and his body was pressed heavily into thin grass. The scent rose throughout him and he had to hold back a cough at the suddenness of it.

And then, he realized: he had woken up.

Not appeared. Not materialized. He’d woken from what felt like a slumber.

The realization struck him hard. He could not feel any prominent muscles in his arms or legs, and he felt weak. Moving any limb was a strenuous task and he lay there for hours trying to rediscover the rhythm of his connecting, and working, body parts. In those hours of slow movement, he had more time to absorb this information.

And still, he could not believe it.

At some point, he leaned over to dry heave. It wasn’t clear what caused it. Perhaps the sudden abundance of real, linear thoughts and brimming senses and working muscles. He felt the cold air hit his throat and the coughs lineup down his tongue and he felt alive.

Alive, alive, alive!

He needed to tell someone. Gansey, Blue, Adam. Ronan. His family? He’d have to be careful about it, but now the excitement was beginning to charge and it was getting fairly hard to hold back the joy.

(There was a nervous energy behind the joy, too. A terror at what this meant and if he’d be capable of handling it. A slithering question: Did he truly _want_ to be alive? For now, though, he let the joy be dominant.)

Eventually, he got up and found his footing. Feet felt weird. So did legs. And heads and arms. It took tremendous effort, but he was determined. There was a burning inside him that made him feel more alive than he’d ever thought he’d be, and it occurred to him that this must be adrenaline. It helped him push through the pain and strangeness of his body, which seemed to be working against him.

Soon enough, he was walking. Actually walking. His body was no longer a light entity - instead, he felt the weight of his form press into each step.

Taking the focus off himself, Noah acknowledged his surroundings. It wasn’t entirely surprising, but the pain of the environment still rippled through him in painfully harsh currents.

He’d woken where he’d died.

Time was a circle. A circle, a circle, a circle, and yet! Here he was, one event (death) following directly behind another (rebirth). His head throbbed like Whelk had only hit him minutes before. He almost expected to find a discarded skateboard somewhere around him, but nothing was in sight besides green grass and brown bark. 

Ignoring the anxious pit that curled around his ribs, making him feel nauseous all over again, Noah continued down a path he assumed would lead him out. In the end, though, it was merely an estimated guess. He had a bad sense of direction and, even more so, he’d fought hard to block out the truth of his death. Coming up here with Whelk had long since been erased from his conscious. All he remembered was Whelk’s face and then the _smack_ of a board across his cheek.

He shivered and let the memory tuck itself away.

The trees were not as thick as he’d originally thought. After a while, the woods seemed to thin out, and he could see the beginnings of a Henrietta street. At this point, with the road before him and the bundle of trees behind him, he could tell where he was.

He went to the Barns.

Noah wasn’t too sure why he headed off in that direction. Ronan had not officially moved out of Monmouth before Noah passed on. But something told him time had passed in a steady, human-based flow. The air felt different. The line felt different. An instinct whispered to him about the Barns, and so he simply went to the Barns.

Later, he would think about the ley line and his new revival. Later, after he’d seen them. After he’d touched his friends with these living, warm fingers.

It took him hours. The sun had reached its peak, and while the air felt a bit snippy, he was beginning to feel dehydrated and hungry and hot beneath the sun. His forehead beaded with sweat. Dizziness swam and his vision blurred more than once.

But he thought, _Ronan_ , and the thought made him continue.

When he eventually reached the enormous property, he could not stand still to admire the beauty. The large house, the sitting BMW, the beauty and magic of the whole place. The image felt like home, and Noah almost passed out with relief.

Here, he’d find his family once again. He’d see Ronan with his fierce, protective grin; Adam, with his friendly, welcoming gestures; Blue, with her spiky hair and lazy smile; Gansey, with his bright aura and ever-lasting leadership.

The last of his strength went to the knock at the front door. He restrained himself from just walking inside - he was new to this human thing (well, kind-of new), but he was trying to collect all lost manners.

After what felt like years but was actually a few seconds later, the door opened.

Ronan stood before him, a black tank-top and loose jeans accompanying his frame. Chainsaw made a loud, ominous sound from his shoulder.

Noah felt happiness encase him. Real, lively, shimmering happiness.

A smile, large and grand and genuine, the first one in a long, long time, spread across his face.

He breathed out. “Ronan.”

Ronan looked over him, eyebrows raised, and something in Noah immediately sank. No recognition flushed over Ronan’s face. No relief. Not even curiosity. The only thing there was an apathetic observation and a quick dismissal.

Ronan crossed his arms, trying to intimidate Noah. It would not work to intimidate the boy, but it did something else to him.

It isolated him.

He felt alienated.

“I’m not really sure how you know my name, but it would fare you well to get the fuck off my property. I’m not interested in trouble with strangers.”

Something in Noah changed right then. It was the beginning of a change, a quick snap, small yet heavy as dark blood swarmed within him. He wouldn’t notice it now, but he would soon. His bright eyes immediately dulled. The excitement wiped off him like running water, and it hit the floor with an ugly smack. He felt the world tilt, just for a second, but he held on. He needed confirmation.

“I’m sorry…” Mumbled, a hint of surprise and reluctance twinged with each word. “You…” He was scared of the answer, petrified, but he had to ask. “You don’t know me?”

“No,” Ronan said. It was an immediate reply with no hesitation. Not even Chainsaw seemed to recognize the ex-ghost. “Should I?”

He’d had hope and humanity within him for a few hours, but that was it. Now he was a shell of a person. What was the point of being revived? 

There was no point if the people he loved didn’t know him.

“No. I guess not.” He faced the ground. His fingers fidgeted.

Ronan looked at him and opened his mouth as if to question him once more, but Noah couldn’t bear it. 

He could not stand knowing that he had been forgotten.

He cut Ronan off. “I’m sorry to bother you.” And then he was gone, sweaty and dirty and weak-kneed and dehydrated, running back to the road and to some forest and letting the despair take him.

 

For a few minutes after their exchange, Ronan thought about the stranger. He thought about the pain in his face, the absolute hurt, that dead look in his eyes. He tried to remember if he knew the other, but nothing came to him.

He called Gansey to describe the stranger and ask if he knew him.

“Light hair and a mark on his cheek?” Gansey asked, reaffirming. “No, it doesn’t sound familiar. And he was wearing an Aglionby sweater?”

Ronan grunted a confirmation.

“That’s strange. I wonder why he went all the way out to the Barns?”

Ronan thought it was strange, too, but he had no answer. So he simply told Gansey not to worry, that it was probably just some nosy fucker, and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me @[hhitgirl](http://hhitgirl.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	2. the fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah seeks answers while a dinner party takes place.

Noah pondered transportation.

After that unfortunate encounter with Ronan, everything unpleasant about this was beginning to dawn on him. 

Here were the worst points:

1) Noah was dead in this world. Quite possibly, he’d been entirely unwritten. The technicalities of it weren’t clear yet, but the truth of the matter was this: Noah was not a real person. He had no identification, no proof of being alive. He had no education, no money, no food, no clothes. He was homeless. Whether he was dead in this world or just simply someone who had never existed in this world, the end result was the same. He did not have the capable means to keep himself living.

2) Noah did not know how to live. Breathing was still an odd concept, though it was the easiest to adapt. Walking was harder. Emotions were the most difficult. His mind was bursting in black and white, and then roaring colors, before settling back to some ugly gray. It was consistent and merciless. Without joy, despair sat atop him and stuffed his thoughts with a loud buzz. He wasn’t sure how to control it.

3) Noah had no connections. Ronan did not remember him. He wasn’t sure anyone else did. If that was true, then there would be no one to help him.

4\. Noah was no longer a ghost. No more reading images and thoughts, or seeing the circle of time or knowing things that others did not know. No more appearing in one place and reappearing in another without effort. 

This was currently the most unpleasant point of his revival. He needed transportation.

He was going to go home.

The desperation had now consumed him. It was a desperation to know that Ronan’s detachment was not also apparent in his family.

He was desperate to know that not everyone had forgotten him.

Eventually, he found his answer at a gas station. There were a few cameras that Noah took note of (courtesy of watching the Gray Man’s caution when he’d been a ghost). As if he were still that invisible entity, he avoided the camera angles and climbed into the back of a pick-up truck when the driver had entered the gas station. He hid under a loose tarp and waited.

He would have walked to avoid all the trouble, but his legs felt like jello and his hunger made him weak. So here he was, illegally hitching a ride in some stranger’s car.

The stranger came back soon, a Coca Cola in his hand and a hat tucked neatly over his hair. Noah thought of Adam, then quietly shut the thought out.

About six short miles later, the truck passed a street that was close to the Czerny residence. The afternoon had slid to night in the past few hours, so the darkness hid his escape from the trunk when the truck came to a stop sign. 

He walked the rest of the way, tired and in need of a shower or food or anything. He pushed on, seeking out the beautiful home until it was right before him.

He sank in the nostalgia, and let desperation hold him up.

He walked up the front steps. Knocked. Held his breath.

The door opened.

It was his father.

Fairly aged, gray hair. Cheeks shallow. Yet, he looked at peace with the world. Noah was happy about that.

There was no recognition in his face.

“Hello. Can I help you?” asked his father.

Noah did not let himself sink. He smiled in a lighthearted way. “Is Adele home?”

His father raised a brow. “No. She doesn’t live here anymore.” He paused. “Who’re you? I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

Noah waved his hands. “Nah, it’s fine. Have a good night, Mr. Czerny.”

He walked off.

 

Past midnight, he found the cemetery. 

He walked around, footsteps soft, hands in his pockets. 

When he arrived at the place where his headstone had once been, he found nothing there.

Noah wasn’t necessarily surprised at this point, but it still didn’t make sense.

Had he simply never lived? No, that was impossible. That would mean Gansey had died on the ley line years before. And this world did not feel like a world without Gansey in it. The air hummed with that of a king, and Noah did not think Gansey had ceased to exist way back when.

So Noah had to have died. Their lives had to have been exchanged at one point. Because if Noah hadn’t lived, why would he be alive now?

It was when he was sitting there, legs crossed and deep in thought, when he saw something flicker. Eyes hardening, he focused his gaze. A hint of gray appeared before him, and he focused harder.

A headstone materialized right before him, as if it had always been there but was simply invisible.

It said “Noah Czerny” on it, and something in his chest expanded to the point of exploding.

He had lived. He had lived, but the world was forgetting him.

He curled up in front of the headstone (too scared that it would disappear from his eye again) and slept for the night on the forgotten grave.

Tomorrow, he would go to the women of 300 Fox Way.

 

300 Fox Way was a crowded place, never quiet, always restless. The women there strived and conquered and held Henrietta together in ways that no one would expect. There was a magic about it that was unlike the greywaren or the ley line or Cabeswater. There was something about the blue house that even normal people could understand.

In the kitchen, Maura leaned against the counter. She drank out of her large blue mug, then eyed Calla.

Calla eyed her back.

“We’re getting an interesting visitor today,” Maura said. 

Calla hummed in agreement.

They went about their day and waited.

 

Around noon, Noah Czerny knocked on the door to 300 Fox Way.

He stood there, dirty and smelly and still desperate, though he wasn’t sure what there was to be desperate over anymore. Maybe all he needed now were answers, and that was why he was here.

Calla answered. She looked him over, and he opened his mouth.

“Come,” she said, cutting him off.

He went.

They went into the reading room, where Maura was already waiting. Noah felt like he was being recognized, but not as himself. Like they’d been expecting him without knowing who he was. The idea did not make him feel better, and it didn’t help that the house made him anxious with the desire to be remembered. It ate at him, and he wanted to see Blue; to watch as she ran up to him, calling his name, mirth in her voice.

However, she wasn’t home, and that wasn’t the purpose of his visit.

“Sit,” Calla urged, and so he sat. Calla sat, too, and then Maura smiled at him.

“What’s your name?” Maura asked.

Noah fidgeted, then let go of his hesitation. “I’m Noah.”

“Why are you here?” It wasn’t a hostile question, but he still felt himself slink back, unsure of himself.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and it was an honest answer.

Calla and Maura looked at one another.

Maura gathered her cards first, and Noah let out a little huff of relief. He wasn’t sure he was ready for Calla to touch him yet.

The cards were shuffled, and then Maura laid out three.

Staring back at him were: THE HANGED MAN, WHEEL OF FORTUNE, and THE FOOL.

Maura tilted her head. She looked at Noah, questioning. He didn’t interrupt her thinking to ask. He knew that the cards would not answer his questions, so he wasn’t impatient to know what they meant.

“Sacrifice. Rebirth. The beginning,” Maura mumbled. “Three cards of divinity. Do you understand, Noah?”

A part of him did not, but a part of him understood perfectly. He nodded his head.

Maura did not explain herself like she did with her normal customers. Something in the room spoke of their similarities, all three of them, and that a solid explanation would not fit to help Noah in any way.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, long breath. In then out.

He opened his eyes to find the two psychics staring at him. He held out his hands, palms up, and laid them on the table.

Then he stared at Calla. His intentions were clear.

Calla took his hands.

The world seemed to tilt, for a moment, then another. And when Calla opened her eyes again and let go of his hands, her eyes seemed different.

“Oh,” she said. Her hands dropped. It was obvious what she had seen: Noah, the boy. Whelk. Noah, the ghost. The 300 Fox Way women. Blue, Gansey, Adam, Ronan. The unmaker. His possession. The last time he’d held hands with Calla and let her see inside him. 

(Remembered, remembered, remembered.)

Not quite remembered, but close enough.

Calla stood. “I’ll set up a bath for you and some clean clothes. I’m sure there’s something around here that’ll fit.”

Maura looked at her, expression confused, but Calla kept talking. “Stay for dinner, okay? We’ll talk about it then.”

There was no room for argument. Noah said, “Okay.”

 

Noise and music came from the front yard of 300 Fox Way as two cars pulled up: A sleek BMW and an orange Camaro. Gansey, Adam and Henry got out of the Camaro, and Blue and Ronan got out of the BMW. It might seem like an unusual arrangement, but Blue and Ronan had been having a heated discussion about the likability of certain music, and they hadn’t wanted to stop their discussion for the drive over here. Gansey was driving Blue’s Camaro, and Gansey’s own Camaro was back at Monmouth. It hadn’t started, so Blue had thrown him her keys.

It would’ve been odd if it was anyone else, but the five of them shared things in peculiar ways, and they’d found nothing wrong with it.

Blue slammed the passenger door. “How dare you? How dare you, Ronan Lynch? The Murder Squash Song is NOT better than Beyonce.”

“Fuck you, Sargent. The Murder Squash Song is better than every song ever created.”

She gasped. “More than Jessie’s Girl?”

“Yes.”

“More than Beat It?”

Ronan groaned. “More than all of your favorite 80’s songs.”

“You- That’s blasphemy!”

He grinned wickedly as the other three came up. Blue spun to talk to them. “Ronan’s gone mad!” she exclaimed.

Adam laughed. “That’s unsurprising.”

They messed around and laughed and talked as they entered 300 Fox Way. Maura and the Gray Man had invited them over for dinner, and for once, they’d found a night where none of them were busy. It felt peaceful and the house was lively as always.

Once inside, they shrugged off their coats and whiffed the pie-scented air. Plates lay neatly over the table and extra chairs had been brought up. The Gray Man and Maura greeted them, then Orla and Jimi. Calla had yet to be seen, but they figured she was somewhere around.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Henry asked, looking at Maura, and she smiled back at him.

“Chicken alfredo,” she replied.

Henry rubbed his stomach. “Smells good! We eat a lot of junk on the road; I’ve missed homemade.”

Maura patted his shoulder. “Well, be sure to have seconds. I made plenty.”

Ronan and Gansey spoke as Adam talked to the Gray Man. Blue excused herself to use the restroom upstairs, though it was too loud for anyone to hear her.

She was gone for barely 30 seconds before her surprised scream cascaded through the house. Another loud yelp followed hers.

The noise downstairs stopped. Maura mumbled, “Oh,” but Gansey was already running up the stairs, the three boys behind him.

Blue was in the bathroom, staring at the bath. In the tub was a young man with wet blonde hair, body surrounded in bubbles. The water in the tub sloshed as he fought to cover himself, but the curtain had been pulled nicely behind a ring in the wall meant to hold it, and he couldn’t get it without standing up.

Gansey stopped. Henry, Adam, and Ronan followed suit, looking in from behind, the bathroom now crowded. 

“What the hell?” Blue said, confused and cautious.

The young man sank down lower, cheeks flushed. But besides embarrassment, there was something else in his eyes. They were deeply hollow, and displeased to be seeing these people. He seemed to breathe melancholy, and it bled throughout the bathroom.

“Mark on his cheek…” Gansey noted, before looking at Ronan.

Ronan immediately nodded. He was aggressively suspicious of the stranger, and he pushed past Blue and Gansey to glare intently at the boy.

It wasn’t that he was angry. He was simply protective, and to see the suspicious boy from his house now in Blue’s house made him automatically assume the worst. He would not let any more harm come to his family, and that meant tearing down any threats before they actually became threats.

“What do you want from us?” he snarled. He was trying to gauge the stranger’s reaction. The boy only sank back, looking down at the water, hair falling limply in front of his face.

Suddenly, Calla came pushing through the crowd in the bathroom. “Alright, alright, get out. All of you.”

Adam looked at her in shock. “Why do you have a stranger in your bathtub?”

She took the curtain off the ring in the wall and covered the tub, giving the boy his privacy. The last thing Ronan saw was his head, still ducked down, body overcome with a slight tremor.

“It doesn’t concern any of you.” (A lie, but a lie they’d never know). “Out, out.”

Blue reluctantly backed up. “But Calla…”

“Later,” Calla told her, then closed the door, leaving the boy and herself in the bathroom.

Henry, Gansey, Adam, Blue, and Ronan looked at each other. A clearing throat caught their attention. Maura stood behind the group.

“Come on,” she started, heading down the stairs. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

Noah was shivering. Suddenly, the water felt too cold, and he wanted to get out. With shaking fingers, he went to rinse the remaining conditioner from his hair.

He heard Calla sigh on the other side, then a groan of the toilet, as if she was sitting down on it. 

“I…” Noah shuddered once more. “I didn’t expect to see them.” His voice was raw, consumed in something unnameable.

Calla said, “With your visit today, I forgot about it.” She did not say sorry, and he did not expect an apology.

Noah looked at his hands. They were pale and thin, but the beds beneath each nail had finally been cleaned from the past two days.

“You can’t tell them,” he whispered. The air around him was freezing, even though he was alive now. His lips were starkly pink. Somehow, he still felt dead.

“I won’t.” She stood up. “Eat dinner first. Recharge. We’ll discuss the ley line’s intentions after. I have a few ideas.”

She left the bathroom, and the door clicked softly behind her. Noah sank beneath the bubbles and beneath the water, letting the soothing silence devour him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm over @[hhitgirl](hhitgirl.tumblr.com)!!


	3. purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner party at 300 Fox Way and a team meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos! The supportive comments have really made me continue writing this. I know there aren't many people who care for Noah/Ronan but it's fun to write them, so I don't want to stop despite their unpopularity. Have fun reading!!

Ronan was watching the stranger with observational suspicion. He was on edge, and if he suspected something weird, he’d act in response.

The stranger came down the stairs, steps careful and hesitant. He wore a seemingly comfortable pair of gray sweatpants, with the bottom cuffs hugging his ankles. The sweatshirt on his upper half was black with a large daisy printed on it. 

Blue hummed. She had a baggy wardrobe, so the clothes fit the stranger almost perfectly. She was not the type to get angry about sharing her clothes with strangers, though she was slightly uncomfortable, and definitely confused. 

“At least he looks good in it,” she muttered, before taking another bite of her food.

They were gathered around the table, ten people, psychics and dreamers and hitmen. Now it was eleven as the stranger approached.

“Thank you for the clothes,” he mumbled. It was hard to tell whether he was thanking Calla or Blue.

Calla pet the chair beside her. He sat between her and Maura, like a protective shield of terrifying (and protective) psychic ducks, flocking towards their young.

“This is Noah,” Calla said. Everyone looked at the boy named Noah.

“Why can’t he introduce himself?” Ronan asked, voice unkind. Gansey pinched his thigh under the table. 

“Ow! Fuck off, I’m just asking.”

Gansey gave him a pointed look. Jimi said, “Let’s not swear at dinner.” Ronan gave a grumble, but agreed to try and comply.

The stranger finally spoke up. “I’m Noah. Hello.” His voice was quiet and smooth. It held an unexpected tenderness, yet was hoarse and hollow at the same time. It sounded ghastly.

Gansey smiled. “Hello, Noah. I’m Gansey.”

Noah smiled an odd, dishonest smile. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Blue, Henry, and Adam all introduced themselves. Apparently Noah had already met Jimi, Orla, and the Gray Man. Conversation picked up at the table. Gansey looked at Ronan as if he expected Ronan to introduce himself. But Noah wasn’t expecting it. He was just looking at the food in front of him. Ronan noticed Calla watching the strange boy, and he watched too.

Noah picked up the fork with precision. His movements were sluggish. He stared at his plate of chicken alfredo with both interest and disinterest. The contradiction struck Ronan as odd, and he continued to watch in a weird fascination and curiosity. Finally, Noah poked the food with the fork and brought some to his mouth to chew.

Noah’s face lit up immediately. Nothing much changed about his depressed face, but his eyes shone and he looked beside him in very downplayed admiration. 

“Maura...” His voice was excitable yet still quiet. “This is really, really good.”

Maura smiled kindly at him. “Thank you, Noah.” Noah smiled kindly back.

Ronan scoffed to ignore the building sympathy. “Where’d you get this kid, Calla? Off the street?”

Noah paused. Calla looked at Noah, then Ronan. Calla said, “Yes, actually.”

Blue looked around at the 300 Fox Way women as if this was a joke they were all in on. Gansey, Henry and Ronan didn’t say anything.

It was Adam who responded as if nothing was unusual. His question was nonchalant. “Has it been awhile since you’ve had a meal like this?”

It took Ronan a short second to realize Adam was talking about a home-cooked meal. Noah nodded, just once, a small nod.

Adam gave a friendly smile but didn’t say anything else. Maura reached over to brush Noah’s bangs from his eyes. He looked at the psychic with quiet, boyish longing. Ronan had to look away from the innocent expression.

“He’ll be my guest for a short while,” Calla started. “So either get along with him or don’t stop by.” At this, she looked pointedly at Ronan. Ronan shrugged and ate another bite. If Calla trusted this kid, then he would be okay with it for now. Still, it didn’t stop the fact that Noah had stopped by his house the day before and had known his name. The memory sat in the pit of his stomach, making him ill. He elected to ignore it for now, though. He knew if he pushed Noah any further during dinner, he’d evidently get scolded.

The rest of dinner went on without much more talk of the new boy. Henry talked enough for everyone. He and Orla had a fascinating discussion about the wonders of crop-tops, and Blue would add to the discussion here and there. On the other side of the table, Maura and the Gray Man were discussing future plans with Adam and Gansey. Adam spoke of college and Gansey spoke in depth of their future travel plans and their travels so far.

“The Smoky Mountains were absolutely beautiful,” Gansey was saying, his voice wondrous and dreaming. 

Noah was watching the conversation with a silent adoration. His eyes flickered from Gansey and Adam, and back to Blue. He looked encompassed by their presence - he looked in love. His eyes moved to Ronan, and Ronan lifted an eyebrow in challenge. Noah stared for a second, eyes unreadable, before his gaze dropped back to the table. Ronan looked at him for a few more short moments, rudely eyeing the smudge on his cheek and the fairness of his hair and the sweatshirt that sat nicely on his hunched shoulders. Something felt different. Ronan wasn’t sure how to name it, but it was a heavy feeling, and suddenly he felt bad for snarling at the boy all night.

Dinner dishes were picked up and set in the sink and then pie was served. The scent of apple and pecan lifted through the tall blue house and everyone quit their conversations to complicate the delectable taste.

It was Henry who put the attention on Noah again. “So, Noah, Noah my man - have you got a last name?”

Noah seemed to think for a moment in a quiet, short pause. Then, he shook his head. “It’s just Noah.”

Gansey looked confused. “How can you not have a last name?” he inquired.

Noah shrugged and picked at his piece of pie with his fork. Calla answered for him.

“He’s amnesic.”

Noah turned his head to her slowly, but otherwise made no comment. Gansey and Blue gaped; Henry looked curious. Even Adam looked slightly taken aback. Ronan still did not feel well.

“We’re trying to get his memory back,” Calla further explained. She took another bite of the pecan pie, done with her explanation. 

“Oh,” murmured Gansey, who was obviously deep in thought. “Well, Noah, if you need any help feel free to ask us. We’re pretty good at mysteries.”

This earned a tiny, tiny smile from the boy. It seemed to hold everyone in their place. He said, quietly, “Thank you.”

When the food was eaten and the conversation slowed due to full stomachs, everyone who didn’t currently live at 300 Fox Way gathered their belongings and headed for the door. They all said their goodbyes, and soon the psychics were all cleaning dishes and talking amongst themselves in the kitchen. The five guests began to leave, walking down the short steps.

Ronan headed for his BMW, but he paused as the sleeve of his jacket was lightly pulled. He turned to find Noah staring up at him. Ronan glanced down at Noah’s hand on his arm, expressionless. Seeing this, Noah immediately dropped his hand.

“S-Sorry,” Noah mumbled. “About yesterday… I was looking at old files of Aglionby students and you seemed familiar. Your address was there, so…”

“So you decided to drop by for a visit,” Ronan finished for him. “Sorry to break it to you, but we’ve never met before.”

Noah nodded. “I know that now. I’m not sure why I thought you were familiar.” He shrugged, and in that moment he simply looked tired. Everything about him seemed tired, from his sleepy eyes to his sluggish form.

“Stand up straight,” Ronan said. “I’m not going to yell at you anymore.” 

Noah reluctantly stood a little straighter. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated miserably.

Ronan tapped the stranger’s chin, asking for eye contact. They looked at each other for a long moment. He said, “It’s fine,” and then got into the BMW with Blue, driving off.

 

That night, Ronan woke up with a dream object. After a few minutes of paralysis, he found that it was a snowglobe.

He picked it up slowly, examining it in fear of consequences. The dream was slightly forgotten by now, but he remembered the feeling of it, a horrid pain lodged deep in his chest as he thought up the snowglobe.

Inside were five small figures. One had brown hair, one had brown hair and glasses. One was short and had wild, choppy hair. One had a shaved head and a raven on its shoulder. And the last one, in the middle, had fair hair and a deep mark across its cheek.

When Ronan shook it, silvery glitter roamed softly around the globe.

He stared at it for a long moment before he shoved it in the bottom draw of his dresser. He went to sleep thinking about it.

 

Calla sat Noah down on a vintage green sofa chair as she stood, tapping her chin. Maura sat on the couch. No one else was around except the three of them.

“Okay,” Maura started. She turned to look at Noah. “So you were dead up until a few months ago?” Noah nodded. “And you knew all of us?” He nodded. “And you searched for Glendower with them?” Nodded once more. 

Maura made a final humming sound, as if she had simply needed to confirm these things. Calla paused her tapping and crossed her arms over her chest, looking directly at Noah.

“The ley line is not like Cabeswater. It has no solid, understandable thought: only consciousness and energy.” This was true, a stated fact, and so no one said anything. Calla continued. “Ley lines feed energy to all things mystical and then communicate through those sources. We can feel the ley line and we can feel when something’s wrong. We can also communicate to the ley line using some of the abilities here at Fox Way. Or even through places like Cabeswater, just like Adam used to.”

“Except Adam was only contracted to Cabeswater, not the ley line. And now that Cabeswater isn’t there, all he has is his status as The Magician,” Maura further guessed, nodding her head along. “I’m not sure if he still scyres for the ley line, but I’m sure his involvement with the ley line has decreased since Cabeswater disappeared for Gansey.”

Noah frowned. “So the ley line is replacing those responsibilities with me?” he asked.

Calla shook her head. “It’s hard to tell. The only reason Adam fixed the broken places of energy along the ley line was to help sustain Cabeswater’s energy. The ley line can survive no matter how many places along it are broken. It is not something that can be destroyed or erased. All magical energy comes from it. I’m not sure it would revive a dead boy just to help prevent a few measly cracks.”

Maura hummed, agreeing. Noah stared at the knick-knacks on nearby shelves and thought hard. 

Maura turned to him. “Do you still feel the energy like when you were dead?”

Noah shut his eyes, inhaled and exhaled, then nodded. “I noticed it when I woke up. I was able to feel things that were on the ley line. I don’t have the same… capabilities I had when I was dead, but there’s still energy inside of me.”

Maura nodded. “We can feel it, too. It’s a bit like Blue, but not quite. It’s hard to place. You don’t feel dead at all, though, so that’s good. It seems like you’re back for good.”

Noah tried to smile in response, failed, and didn’t bother trying again. When Maura gave him an odd look, he explained, “Being alive now means I owe my life to something. I’d be ecstatic to help, usually, but…” His gaze went towards the front window.

“But you want them to remember,” Calla said, voice soft, understanding. She knew that not even his family knew who he was; Maura didn’t know, but his everlasting pain had been evident on his face since he’d arrived.

Noah shrugged. “For now, I just want to focus on why I came back. It’ll be easier to distract myself. You know, since it’s now my life’s purpose and all.”

Maura gave him a gentle, motherly smile. “There will be more purpose. It’ll come to you. Remember, this is your beginning - the card’s said so.” Her smile grew into a grin, and Noah immediately felt comforted. 

 

That night, as Noah lay in Blue’s bed, her old comforter so warming against his body, the living boy shed a single tear.

The feel of something soft on his back made him shudder. In fact, he was amazed at the way he could curl in on himself and feel so nicely positioned in the pillows and blankets. It had been years and years since this sensation, and the waiting only made it that much more rewarding. He felt as if the bed were a cloud, and he rode it up, up, up until he was in a peaceful sleep.

In his sleep, he dreamt. He had dreams of someone’s thoughts. No, not quite thoughts. They were neither words nor images, yet somehow Noah understood them. In his dream, Noah and the other entity became one. Or was it not an entity? It felt like something more grand than a single being - it was the sea, massive and foaming. It was space, deep and dark and silent. It was the subconscious, imagination vivid and free to do anything.

He and the thing, the it, the _whatever_ had a conversation without actually conversing. Noah knew, even in his dream, that he was witnessing something of divinity.

Or was it simply magic?

When Noah woke up, he understood.


	4. living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> noah explains his purpose and finds trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update that took me a year... . . ... but i just rly love roah sue me

The longer he spent at 300 Fox Way, the more alive Noah felt. 

It wasn’t that he himself felt alive. He still felt melancholic, like he was the ghost he’d always been. But being around the women in 300 Fox Way made his energy energetic. His skin felt tingly. They weren’t witches, weren’t goddesses, weren’t sirens - but everything about them and the house was magical. 

It had been two full days of living here, a bit more than 48 hours.

The other day, when Noah had dreamt of his new purpose, he hadn’t been able to put it into words. Calla asked, and he tried his best, but his only explanation was too vague.

“It’s divine,” he would repeat, unsure how to narrow it down. “It’s bigger than the ley line.”

“What does it want from you?” Calla had asked.

“Nothing yet, but it’ll need a… ack, how do I explain it?” He had ruffled his hair, frustrated with his lack of words. “An anchor. No, no… glue, maybe?”

“Glue,” Calla repeated, sounding incredulous.

“Magical glue,” Noah had told her. “Magic will be split soon. Scattered, kind of. It’ll need a glue soon. Something to pull all the different magics together.”

Calla had tapped her fingers against her leg, hummed, and made him tea. They’d talked a bit more, but nothing much had cleared the confusion. Only Noah truly understood the image he’d been given.

Now, Noah spent his time helping around the house. The psychics were quite popular, and Maura taught him how to schedule appointments with clients. He learned a little about what they offered, and even got to watch a few card readings.

It was nice. He wasn’t thinking about his friends. Only at night when he was alone in Blue’s room did he think about her hair, or the way Adam and Gansey used to pat his back, or Ronan’s deep laugh. Only at night did he allow himself the pain of remembering.

But he was quick to pull himself together in the mornings. He couldn’t live like a ghost anymore. He had to try.

He could… rebrand. Get new friends.

Yeah. Easy.

Today Maura had asked him to make a quick shopping trip for them. They needed bread, cereal, and a few more things. The women were all busy, and Noah was the only one free enough to make the trip. He didn’t know how to drive, but the summer air wasn’t too hot, and he liked walking.

The nearest shop was only about a mile away. Today Noah was dressed in a pair of Blue’s sweatpants, an old pair of black Converse, and a hoodie from inside her closet. Maura said she’d take him shopping soon, but he didn’t want them wasting money on him. He’d have to get a job soon, but he didn’t have any paperwork proving his existence. 

The sun was mercifully hidden behind white clouds, and the sky was a pale blue. Noah’s feet were light as he walked. His skin felt warm. It was a good day.

It took him a little more than 20 minutes to walk to the store. He shopped quickly and mindlessly, though his attention drifted every time he saw a snack he’d never seen before. Next time he would ask Maura if he could get one item. Preferably something from the snack aisle.

When he was done, he walked around the small plaza. He looked around for signs that might suggest places were hiring, but eventually came up empty.

The walk home was initially boring, but after a few minutes Noah heard a group of voices behind him. He dismissed the loud group of people and kept walking. It was summer in Henrietta - it wasn’t surprising that there were people out.

Ignoring it became impossible, though, when the group seemed to be getting closer and closer. Noah, confused, tried to walk a little faster, but then they called out to him -

“Hey!” someone called out.

Noah turned around, eyebrows raised. He wasn’t used to people calling out to him. There was a group of guys, most around his physical age.

“Uh, hey,” Noah replied. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry, man,” said the kid in front. He was tall, with bleach blonde hair and dark eyes. “You just look familiar. Did you go to Aglionby?”

Noah’s heart stopped. He stared at the guy in front of him, trying to recognize him. It was a shock that someone remembered him enough to know he went to Aglionby. Noah felt bliss pour through his body. A relief so large, he felt his chest blossom and expand.

“Yeah, I did! I’m Noah!” For the first time in days, Noah smiled, not at all forcing it.

One of the others threw his arm around Noah’s shoulders. This guy was shorter and had tattoos on his knuckles. “Man, no way!” They began walking and Noah let himself be led, unknowing. “I totally remember you… Noah, that’s right,” he said, and Noah kept grinning, so happy that these people had somehow remembered him.

As they walked, the others in the group added in their comments: “Oh, yeah, Noah! That’s right, we remember you, man! How’ve you been?” And Noah tried his best to answer them. A few seconds of conversation passed, and they had made it to a little secluded spot. There was a huge light post beside the sidewalk, and there were no cars or people lounging around.

The group stopped walking and the guy pulled his arm from Noah’s shoulders. His expression turned menacing in a moment’s time. Noah moved to take a step back.

Another person in the group, someone from behind him that he could not see, took his head and slammed it into the light post.

“Ah, shit!” Noah groaned as he slid to the floor. His nose felt bent. He felt blood dripping from his nostril to his lips.

“Fucking Aglionby trash,” the main guy laughed, and the others laughed with him.

“You guys… don’t?” Noah started, but he had to spit out blood.

“Don’t go to Aglionby? Fuck no, do we look like rich assholes to you?” They all laughed again. Noah could feel their smiles like razors in his spine. “Fuckin’ moron, man.”

And that was it. They just walked away, laughing, as if they did this in their spare time whenever they saw someone from Aglionby pass them by. Noah sat there for a moment, the hand over his nose shaking with rage and fear and disgust.

He wasn’t sure whether he was more mad at them or himself.

After a few shocked minutes, he stood and grabbed the shopping bag he’d dropped. Noah continued on his way, refusing to lay there and drown in his own pity. After a few more minutes, though, the pain was making him a bit dizzy. He found the nearest bench and sat down, sagging with distress. 

It was a surprise how hard living was. For some reason, he thought back to Whelk and their time at Aglionby. It hadn’t been this hard back then. Maybe he’d just been living in his own little fantasy world while everyone else suffered. No wonder he’d been murdered - he was so, so oblivious to everything around him. Naive.

Noah kicked his foot at the ground. He’d have to apologize to Blue for getting blood on one of her hoodies.

Another moment of silence passed before the aggressive sound of an engine neared him. Noah didn’t look up until it was right next to him, the car idling. He looked up to see The Pig.

“Hi, Bud,” Gansey greeted. There was a smile on his face, but it fell when he saw the drying blood. “What happened there?”

“Couple of asses who apparently didn’t like my face... “ Noah said. He wasn’t going to lie to Gansey, despite the shame of being assaulted. 

“Shit,” Gansey replied. He parked the Camaro and got out, going around to Noah’s side. He looked at Noah’s nose, wrinkling his own nose in dismay. “Here, get in. I’ll take you back.”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I’d rather not go back to the house until the blood’s gone.” He really, really didn’t want Maura nor Calla to worry over him. 

“No problem, man. I’ll take you back to my place.”

Noah rose a brow at him. Living with the 300 Fox Way women for the past two days had given him his voice back, so he didn’t feel as timid as he had during his first day around people. He had no problem questioning Gansey, though he was polite about it.

“Are you sure?” Noah asked. “You don’t really know me…”

Gansey grinned. “Absolutely. A friend of Calla and Maura is a friend of mine. Go on, get in.”

For a short second, Noah stood beside the car, unsure. But he wasn’t quite sure why he was hesitating, so he simply got in. The Pig hummed, happy with Noah’s acceptance, and they drove off toward Monmouth. 

The building was the same as he’d left it. Except now that he was living, it felt more solid in structure. He was also quicker to appreciate the freedom of it - a breeze from all directions, a space with no closed spaces.

“Nice place,” Noah said.

Gansey nodded. “It’s really great. Henry and Blue live here, too, actually. You met them the other night.”

“I remember them,” Noah replied.

Gansey turned the car off and the two of them walked up into the building. Noah tried to comment here and there about how great this place was, but his heart wasn’t really in it. Gansey led Noah to the bed in the middle of the main room and gestured for him to wait before disappearing. He came back a few seconds later with a first-aid kit.

“Okay, let’s see…” Gansey turned his head right and left, then looked beneath Noah’s nostrils. “It’s not broken, so that’s great. I think you just need alcohol and some antibiotic ointment. Sound good?”

Noah picked at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Will it sting?”

Gansey blinked. “Not any more than getting punched in the face, I’d think.”

Noah frowned. He felt like he was more accustomed to blunt force than stinging aches. Nonetheless, he let Gansey work away at him. In the end, he barely flinched. Perhaps he was used to pain much worse than this.

“Done,” Gansey told him. There hadn’t been much dried blood, so it only took a few short minutes. Noah looked at him blankly, suddenly tired. Gansey picked up at the supplies and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Noah watched him leave and then, against his better judgement, he let himself lay down. His eyes closed against his will, and he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm writing ch.5 already!!! catch me on tumblr @[anddreil](http://anddreil.tumblr.com/).


	5. here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gangsey play games.

Ronan parked his BMW outside Monmouth and headed up to see Gansey and Blue. The three of them had planned a night to hang out, though Adam was unfortunately working and Henry was seeing a family member. He hoped, prayed, that the other two wouldn’t force him to play Monopoly - but if they did, he’d undoubtedly win. 

It was a little late in the day, but he figured they’d just hang until late in the night. What he didn’t expect to find was Gansey in his desk chair, staring curiously at a blonde boy wrapped up in his sheets.

Ronan glanced at Gansey, then back at the bed where Noah laid. “You got yourself a new boyfriend, Gans?”

Gansey glanced at Ronan and laughed quietly. “You know two partners is more than enough for me.”

 

“Hey, the more the merrier,” Ronan said. “Isn’t that the point of polyamory?”

Gansey shook his head, ignoring him. “He’s just… I don’t know what it is, but I want to protect him, ya know? He always looks so lost.”

“Yeah, well.” Ronan didn’t have anything to say, so he dropped the subject. Looked at Gansey in question. “Why’s he here?”

“Someone apparently jumped him.” Gansey rubbed his jaw. He looked angry. “He didn’t say much about it. I found him and took him back here to clean him up… he fell asleep right away.”

Ronan looked at the strange boy. He looked peaceful and harmless wrapped in bed’s white sheets. When he looked closer, he could see the reddened and bruising part of his nose. Ronan felt sick for a long moment. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and let it pass.

“Where’s Blue?” he asked.

As if on cue, Blue stepped out of the bathroom with damp hair and a fresh face. She grinned at Ronan. “Hope you don’t mind added company.”

“Nah. More people means more eyes to catch you cheating.”

“I have never cheated before! I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“Uh-huh. A liar in her natural habitat.”

“You’re just jealous because I always win,” Blue said. 

“You don’t _always_ win,” Ronan scoffed.

“Alright,” Gansey cut in. “Well, I don’t want to play Monopoly. I don’t think any of us are ready for the emotional turmoil.”

Ronan hummed. “Poker?”

“No way,” Blue said.

“Why not?”

“Too competitive.”

“Everything we play is too competitive,” Ronan shot back.

“How about Life?” Gansey suggested.

Blue and Ronan looked at each other. They shrugged.

 

As the afternoon sun hit its lowest point and Monmouth became engulfed in a mix of red and orange, Noah woke up. He turned his his head, expecting the fluffy pillow in Blue’s bedroom. Instead, he found himself curled in on himself, a comforter clutched to his chest and tucked between his bent legs.

Confused, Noah slowly sat up. He crossed his legs, blinked with dreary eyes, and let his hands laze in his lap. It took him a few, long moments to realize he was at the warehouse. He rubbed his eyes with cold hands.

“You’re awake!” Blue said. Noah looked over to find her sitting beside him on the bed. 

“Hello,” he said. He felt very light and good. His nose hurt but only a little.

Gansey plopped down on the bed beside her. It was quite a large bed. “I called Maura to tell her you were resting here for a bit. Didn’t want her to worry.”

“Oh,” Noah said. “Thank you… sorry for falling asleep on your bed.”

Gansey patted his shoulder. “No problem! It’s kind of like a couch for everyone since it’s in the middle of the room.”

Feet padded out of another room and Ronan looked at Noah. “You sleep like the dead.”

“Hah,” was Noah’s reply, a short huff of a laugh, but no one besides himself got the joke.

“We just finished playing Life so we were gonna start another game,” Blue said. “Wanna join?”

“Uh?” Noah hesitated for a short second. “Sure, but I’m not too great at games.”

“Don’t worry,” Ronan said. “If Blue’s playing, she’ll automatically win. She’s a serial cheater.”

“Ronan I swear to god -” Blue started.

“How about War?” Gansey suggested. Always the mediator.

They agreed and sat around on the floor to play. They quickly explained the rules to Noah, who was able to catch on easily. 

As Gansey shuffled for a second round, Blue looked at Noah. “Nice clothes by the way.”

Noah looked down at his clothes to remember that they weren’t, actually, his clothes. “O-Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Blue laughed, leisure in her accusation. “Don’t be sorry! Whatever I left at 300 Fox Way either doesn’t fit me or I just don’t wear it anymore. You can have everything in my closet back home, if you want.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t need that much-”

“Well, if you decide you do need it.”

Noah nodded. He didn’t want them to pity him, but because Noah had known Blue personally, he knew that she was simply a compassionate person. He had loved her for that. 

“So, Noah, what do you like to do for fun?” This was Gansey likely attempting to get to know him better.

“Um. I liked skateboarding, but I haven’t in awhile.”

Past tense as in ‘before I lost my memory’, as in ‘before I died’.

“Right. The memory thing.” Gansey scratched his chin. “Have you remembered anything new?”

Noah shook his head. Best to lie until he died a second time, because if he ever ‘regained his memories’, that would mean giving them the real name of a real person. And Noah was clearly never going to be a real person again. He would never have an I.D. that was not fake. He would never have the company of a family. He would never have a job, unless it was non-official. The heaviness of it sat atop him, wrapped around his throat, gripped his sides and made his heart thump, thump, thump too heavily inside him.

He shook his head, kept shaking, and then exhaled. Looked up to find them looking at him. Gansey, saddened. Blue, sympathetic. Ronan, something else entirely. Angry, possibly. Empathetic, perhaps. Knowing and yet not knowing. Puzzled, curious, wanting. Or maybe that was Noah’s imagination. The want of a friend. The want of a hand to hold, of comfort, of help. He needed help, that’s what it was. He needed it so badly.

Noah stood up and their gazes lifted with his body. “I should go home… I’m a little tired.”

Gansey started to get up, too. “I’ll drive you,” he started, but Ronan stood up faster.

“I’ll drive him,” Ronan butt in. “I have to go home, anyway.”

Gansey paused, eyeing Ronan. “Yeah, okay. If it’s cool with Noah.”

Noah nodded. He just wanted to leave. They walked toward the exit, and Noah tried his best to say proper goodbyes. “Thank you again for the help…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Gansey insisted. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

But he wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.

 

  
Ronan and Noah got in the car and Noah could barely think yet was able to feel the seconds tick tick tick by without the BMW starting.

“Aren’t we going to go?” Noah asked, and he couldn’t help the impatience that slid into his tone.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Ronan said. Matter of factly. 

“Um.” Noah looked down at his hands. They were shaking. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I didn’t mean to cut your night short,” Noah said.

Ronan was shaking his head. “Seriously, I get to see them all the time. It’s not a big deal.” He let a sliver of silence pass before speaking again. “Do you… wanna talk about it, or something?”

Noah exhaled, trying to control his breathing. He wiped at his eyes, scared that there might be moisture there, but they were dry. His breath was shaky but he managed to speak. “It’s just… hard. When you don’t have family, and you don’t have friends. I almost feel like I’m not real.” When Ronan didn’t automatically reply, Noah shook his head. “Sorry. I’m fine now, we can go home.”

Ronan turned in his seat to look at Noah head-on. “Look. I’m sorry I treated you like an ass when we first met, but… Maura and Calla are good people, and I’m sure they like you a lot if they’re letting you stay at their house.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed.

“And us? We’re a little fucking weird, but I’m sure everyone wants to be your friend. Adam and Henry seemed to get along with you at dinner the other night, and Gansey and Blue have practically adopted you. You grew on them real fast.”

Noah laughed. “Yeah… they’re really nice.” He met Ronan’s eyes. “And you? You don’t care if I hang around?”

Ronan laughed. “Nah. I’ve seen enough of you to know you’re harmless.”

“I don’t know if I’d want to play games with you guys again, though.” Noah grinned. “I think you were right about Blue cheating.”

“See!” Ronan exclaimed. “Gansey never believes me.”

Noah laughed and Ronan smiled. The car started and Ronan took him home.

 

That night, Noah dreamt of laughter.


End file.
